Page 10 of Catching Sparks

I offer him a wince-like smile, but he doesn’t give me anything close to one back.

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hisses, resting a hand over his chest.

The venom in his voice burns through me. I straighten my spine and narrow my eyes as they travel over him from head to toe.

I’m not surprised to find that he’s good-looking. It’s always the men with the shit personalities that get gifted ridiculously perfect physical genes. Yet, that knowledge doesn’t seem to dull the instant attraction that ripples through me as our glares meet, a ferocious silver fire blazing between us.

His chestnut-brown hair is pushed out of his face, stray chunks falling over his ears and shining beneath the sun, while long, thick black lashes flutter furiously over his angry green eyes. I’m used to seeing bulky men out here on the ranch, but Garrison isn’t that. He’s slim, but from the muscles bulging beneath the sleeves of his button-up, he clearly isn’t lacking strength.

In any other situation, I’d probably be drooling over the guy. But as he plants his hands on his hips and scowls at me, his brows flying to his hairline as he waits expectantly for me to answer, I metaphorically seal my vagina up tight.

Absolutely. Not.

“Have I lost signal with you too?” he snarks.

I blink long and slow. “Are you speaking to me? Or is there someone else behind me? I know Anna is back there, but there’s no way you’d speak to her like that either. Right?”

His brows lower the slightest bit, but not enough. “Do you often sneak up behind people and eavesdrop on their private conversations?”

“Unless you were having a private conversation with yourself, I wasn’t eavesdropping on anything.”

“So, you just like sneaking up on people, then?”

I feel Anna’s presence grow closer and closer, and then there’s a hand on my back. It’s a sweet gesture, but it’s not needed. Garrison Beckett isn’t going to get under my skin that easily.

“Do you like being an asshole?”

He has the nerve to appear dumbstruck at the question. As if he’s never been asked that before. “Excuse me?”

“Hello, Garrison,” Anna says tightly.

He drifts his stare toward her, and finally, those naturally blush-pink lips spread into a weak attempt of a smile, but one nonetheless. Tipping his chin, he mutters, “Anna.”

“This is Poppy, one of my closest friends. I’m sure you’ll be seeing quite a bit of one another over the next two months, so if we could please just . . . attempt to get along?”

His nostrils flare, displeasure filling his expression. I stiffen, immediately hating that I’m offended by his reaction to Anna’s suggestion. I’m not desperate to be his best fucking friend or anything, but damn.

“I’ll avoid the guest house from now on. Wouldn’t want you to ruin another phone,” I tell him, my tone dripping in sarcasm.

“I’m sure there’s room for all of us here,” he offers begrudgingly.

Our eyes clash again, that same flame burning anew, travelling lower and lower . . . I shove that thought away. Angst has always turned me on, but nope. Not this time.

I lean into Honey’s body and give her a couple of pats on the neck before readjusting my hold on her reins. “Alright then. Have a nice afternoon, Garrison.”

“See you,” Anna says. Neither of us gets a response.

Honey turns, showing the man our behinds and leading us far, far away from this now cursed place. Each jostle on her back rattles my mind. I swallow and block the past few minutes from my mind. And when Anna trots up beside me, I keep my mouth shut and let her speak.

“So much for giving him a chance to prove himself,” she grunts.

“Oh, he proved himself alright. Sir Douchealot it is from now on.”

“At least he’s handsome?”

I choke on a laugh, focusing on the stable ahead of us. “I can always count on you to see the glass half-full when I can’t.”

“It’s a solid fifty-fifty effort, I think. You can’t always be the sunshine.”

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